Devil's Thunder
by Lula June
Summary: Post 2x12 and pre 2x13. How Cooper and Charlotte got to their sweaty state in Nothing To Fear. Maybe M-rated.  Disclaimer: I own nothing; I just wish I did.


You shift in your cave of white duvet, avoiding the rich sunlight that filters through your blinds. And then you realise that you're awake and that you were asleep and that it's a new day. It's time to face the next twenty-four hours. In the moment that follows, you remember you're in your bedroom, in your house in Los Angeles. You roll over, glancing at the clock. It's 6am. You figure you got about four hours sleep. Hazy memories of losses in Alabama flood your brain, scratching at dusty corners, forcing you to sit up. You make a half-hearted attempt to stretch out the fatigue.

You blink when your eyes fall on his form slumped in your armchair by the bookcase. His shirt is rumpled, his jaw stubbly, head laying awkwardly to one side. Your heart throbs. You remember a plane journey, the dizzy ride with you curled up in the passenger seat from LAX to your house, warm arms scooping you up and easing you into bed. So, your car is still at the airport.

You tuck your blonde hair behind your ears and take a deep breath. There's too much pain, and on some level, his help is only worsening the situation. You feel cut. The exposure feels like a killer hangover.

Your fists twist into the bed sheets, and then you're slipping out of your snow-white coffin and creeping closer to him. You stand in front of him, gazing down at him. Your lip trembles. What is he doing to you? Why is being this way? He's breaking you. The urge to leave him sound asleep is more than tempting, but there's a rush of something through you, and you're trailing one finger down his cheek. You try not to smile, slightly furious that he has this affect on you. He flinches under your touch.

"Thank you." you whisper. His eyes flutter open, and his deep blue gaze is immediately focused on you. You offer a timid smile, running your hand over his chest and grasping a handful of his shirt. You bend down to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss on his lips. He concedes, hesitantly, until you're finding his tongue with yours and conveying enough passion to convince him.

Your knee glides over his thigh until you're straddling him. You love him kissing back, you're so grateful he doesn't need persuading. Guess that smile did the trick. His lips find your ear, your jaw, teeth grazing your neck. You moan softly, pressing your hips to his in longing.

You gracefully remove your silk night dress, whispering one last "Thank you," just in case he backs off, and his mouth latches onto one stiffened peak.

Urgently, you fumble with his belt, exchanging slipshod kisses and gasping into his mouth. Your fingers hold his member, rubbing erratically at the growing hardness. He grips you under your butt, your arms slither around his neck and he leads the two of you back to the bed.

You tear at clothes and skin meets hot skin, touching anywhere and everywhere. If you let him care for you this time you'll fall deeper into the black abyss... Desperately, you roll until you're on top, until you're calling the shots and you're giving back to him in the only way you know how.

He moans your name into your breasts and you rise and fall onto his thick manhood, hands roaming his hair, his back. You dip your head to find his lips. Your kisses are full of apologies and mercies, but only you know that.

Par for the course with the two of you, the pleasure reaches a whole new level where how and why you got there is lost. Perhaps this time there's something deeper but more than anything it just feels incredible. The sex is bare, stripped, empty of the accustomed kinky accessories and roleplay, but it feels easy and right nonetheless. Maybe there's something to be said for simplicity, you think.

You can't help from screaming his name and he groans "Oh, Charlotte!" in response. You laugh into the crook of his neck, hair a bit of a mess, fringe stuck to your sweaty forehead, wet thighs hugging his waist.

His fingernails dig into your upper thigh, one thumb massaging your clit with inexplicable expertise. His tongue swirls over a swollen nipple and his hips thrust up to meet yours with every downfall. You're biting your lip, one hand wrenching at his hair and the other scraping hearts into his skin. He's reaching all the right places, hitting all the right spots, pounding in and out of your slippery core as you move up and down faster and faster until you lose all sense of time, and your mind goes blank. Your entire body is overwhelmed with an ecstasy greater than anything you've ever experienced, and all you see is white.

After an immeasurable moment, he's jerking into your motionless body, filling you up, and you crash down onto him in satisfied bliss.


End file.
